


rains & mistletoes

by justqueen



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justqueen/pseuds/justqueen
Summary: Somehow, it all started in Australia.Actually, it started long before Australia, but it was in Australia that it finally hits him right in the face.He'sscrewed.
Relationships: Skandar Keynes/Anna Popplewell





	rains & mistletoes

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by _likecharity_ 's ridiculously brilliant **umbrellas in london**. [When I'll learn the art of "tagging" I'll tag her and her work here but meanwhile, you can search her up here in AO3.] I've been completely obsessing over that fic lately and thus, THIS was born.

Somehow, it all started in Australia.

Actually, it started _long_ before Australia, but it was in Australia that it finally hits him right in the face.

She and Will came by to shoot their cameo for _Dawn Treader._ The three of them hadn't seen each other for months, not since the press tours for _Prince Caspian_. Of course, he lived just next to her so he really "couldn't get away from her if he wanted to" (her words) but he had been away from home for two, almost three, months now.

And she looked... _beautiful_.

Not that he didn't think her eye catching before. But he was so much younger then, all tangled hormones and toastie sandwiches.

This time, though, it was different. He didn't see her until she came out of Georgie's trailer, full lips in red lipstick, blue dress hugging all her right curves, and shoulder length hair in curls.

When she saw him, her face brightened. She strode towards him and before he knew it, he was engulfed in one of her bone-crushing hugs.

If he had been thirteen years old, he would have squirmed all his might and run away.

But he was _far_ from being thirteen years old now.

And she looked _so_ beautiful.

"I've missed you, neighbor," she said, peering up at him (he was three inches taller now.) Her hazel blue eyes glinted under the afternoon light and he felt blinded.

Skandar smiled down at her. "And I've missed you."

He was very aware of his sweaty palms around her waist.

She had broken up with his Oxford boyfriend.

"It's for the good, really." she said, lounging comfortably on his bed inside his trailer, feet tucked underneath, blue dress splayed around porcelain white legs. Her make-up was erased and he thought she looked even more attractive.

Michael had given them a break. He knew how close the four of them were and gave them time to spend together. A raucous dinner with Ben and Andrew after and Anna was practically dragging Skandar to his trailer to catch up with his life.

Not that he had done anything exciting lately. Without her and Will, the set wasn't the same. Even Georgie thought so, despite Ben and his sense of humor.

"How so?" He was standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands shoved inside his pockets.

"I never really liked him that much."

"Then why did you go out with him?"

"I don't know."

She was looking at him rather strangely. Or maybe it was just the rum.

But then, she started talking about home. How his parents almost always invites her for dinner every Sunday night (they had omitted that piece of information from him from their last several phone calls.) How Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, the couple who lived right across from their houses, migrated to America. How Soumaya once invited her to a _Harry Potter_ pub quiz and how they _smashed_ that quiz (that he did know; his sister absolutely adores her.)

Skandar didn't remember sitting beside her. But when her hand brushed his, he almost felt electrocuted. Then suddenly, he was very _aware_ of her. Of her slender neck as she pulled her head back to laugh at his jokes. Of the few curls of her hair that came loose from the messy ponytail she did hours ago. Of how she was only a breath away from him, hazel blue eyes shining, cheeks flushed.

When she left because it was late and they were probably the only people left awake (and because Isis would probably kill her for running off with her dress), allowing him to lie spread-eagled on his bed and to finally put his thoughts in order, Skandar decided it was the rum.

But the next day, when he fumbled his lines five times because Anna was there watching, he wasn't entirely sure anymore if it was the rum.

And it was then that it hit him, right in the face like one of those fists he had difficulty avoiding at school when he was just fifteen.

He's _screwed_.

"Are you alright?" Georgie asked him later that day. Anna and Will had only just left and Michael had given them a short break.

Skandar shrugged, trying to look like nothing was wrong with his thoughts when in actuality, it was a bloody mess. "Yes. I'm just tired."

"Are you sure? You seemed distracted all day. It's not at all like you."

"I'm always distracted, G."

"You fumbled a one-liner _eight_ times, Skan." the girl replied, deadpan.

Skandar didn't respond, opting instead for his trailer for a bowl of _very_ cold water to dunk his head in.

Oh, he's _definitely_ screwed.

***

It may have _really_ started in Australia, but Skandar realized the build-up started years ago.

Thinking back on it now, he was glad of his stupidity on the matter because he didn't want to think of the _awkwardness_ afterwards if he had realized then.

Not that he was _that_ stupid. He had always known Anna was someone... _different_ , not like the way Georgie was. Sometimes, he'd find himself ogling too long at her. Or getting slack-jawed as she practice her stunts with Allan. Or staring at her hands.

But he'd always attributed it to his raging hormones. And, anyway, it was not as if he was the only one doing so. Will does it most of the time and Ben knocked himself on a tree trunk once when a branch snagged off the shoulder of Anna's purple dress.

But there was that time (was it in New Zealand or Prague?) when, instead of focusing on his tutor and the textbook in front of him, he stared at her long, slender neck as she dried her hair (she had just finished taking a bath) that his tutor actually snapped her fingers right at his face.

Georgie, sitting beside him and a pencil in hand, followed his eyes and when she looked back at him, she was half-confused and half-amused.

That night, in his trailer, was the first time he really _thought_ of her. And he may have dreamt a bit of her later when he finally got to sleep.

Again, he had thought, _hormones_. It wasn't easy being fifteen.

Skandar was grateful his Mum wasn't there that night.

*

Okay, it may have also started in his house four months before he left for Australia. And he might possibly have been really _stupid_ that time.

It was raining and she appeared in his front door dripping wet with a bottle of red wine in hand. His parents were out and Soumaya, of course, was at uni. Anna showed up like clockwork.

"You couldn't bother grabbing an umbrella?" he remarked.

"I live _next_ door, Skan," she said, as if it was an explanation enough, pushing her way to his living room.

He brought her up to his room, tossing her a shirt and a pair of trousers. He barely cleared the room when she peeled away her blue blouse, giving him a glimpse of the milky white skin of her back. He had to pause for a few seconds on the landing outside his room to pull himself together.

And then she was rummaging at the cupboards in his kitchen for glasses, feeling right at home. Her hair was still wet from the rain and wavy, cascading in curls around her shoulder. He leaned against the doorway, eyeing her. "What's the occasion?"

"Do I need one to spend time with you?" She gave him a look over her shoulder.

He swallowed.

They lounged casually in the sofa, eating leftover pizza. They watched a cheesy rom-com they had been watching since forever that they both could recite the lines with their eyes closed. As the bottle of wine slowly emptied, the movie was left forgotten. They chatted and laughed at nothing in particular. When it became dark outside and the deluge continued, Anna asked him to play the guitar.

She was red-faced, both from the wine and the excessive amount of laughing.

Normally, he'd refuse a request like that. Playing the guitar or the piano wasn't something he'd like to do with an audience. But everything was foggy now and all he could see was her.

He couldn't recall what song he played but he could remember the look in her face as she gazed at him.

She chose to stay there for the night because the deluge outside refused to stop and she was so sleepy anyway. He was glad she spoke first because he had the same thought but had no idea how to voice it out loud without tripping over his words. He offered her Soumaya's bedroom. His sister wouldn't mind anyway.

As he showered, he heard Anna doing the same in the room next to his.

"So?" Soumaya asked him, eyebrows raised.

"So, what?" He had just came back from Anna's, showing her the _Dawn Treader_ script which arrived that morning. Michael had explicitly reminded everyone not to show anyone the script but she wasn't just anyone. And she was going to cameo anyway so, technically, she's part of the cast.

"Have you told her?"

"Told her what?" He frowned.

Soumaya stared long at him, searching his face. He frowned even more.

His sister shook her head then, chuckling. "Oh, I see." She left him in the living room, heading over to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk from the fridge. He followed her.

"See _what_?" Skandar was annoyed now. Had her sister left her head in uni?

"Exactly how thick could you get, Skandar Amin Casper Keynes?"

"Stop speaking in bloody _riddles_ , then."

Soumaya shook her head again, amused. She poured another brimful of milk then put the box back in the fridge. She walked over to him and stopped, narrowing her eyes at his face as if looking for something.

Soumaya's expression changed. "My bed still smelled like her, you know."

Oh.

Again, _what_?

Eyebrows furrowed even more, he stood there resolute even as Soumaya left him and started for the stairs to her room, wondering what her sister meant.

He recalled Anna's delighted expression as she read the lines for her cameo scene. Skandar smiled.

*

When he left for the _Dawn Treader_ filming, he pretended he wasn't disappointed that Anna didn't say goodbye because she was in rehearsal for a school drama.

With her boyfriend.

And then...

Then _Australia_.

***

It started in Australia but he didn't do anything about it afterwards, even when he got home from filming.

Not that he saw her enough to actually _do_ something, really. She was tied up with school works, even on weekends, that she barely gate-crash his Saturday evening movie marathons anymore as she was wont to do in the past. And, besides, he was occupied with college applications too. Yes, he admittedly has proven alright in the acting industry (those acting classes his mum put him in when he was a kid seemed to be worth the hassle) but it doesn't mean he was no longer determined to obtain a degree. 

Still, he was grateful for all the distractions. Grateful (though _also_ a bit upset) that she no longer shows up in his front door, dripping wet in the rain, then ransacking his fridge for Coke afterwards. At least, it had taken his mind off his jumbled emotions and her because it was seriously getting in the way of his life. (He got into Cambridge, though, and he thought he should get a _bleeding_ medal for that.)

He didn't have the chance to do anything about it, no.

Until.

She came by his house months and _months_ after Australia. It was a Sunday afternoon and it was pouring rain.

"I need help," she greeted as soon as he opened his front door.

She was wearing the sweatshirt he gave her one Christmas and trousers that were too big for her. Her hazel blue eyes were dark and tired and her hair was up in that messy ponytail he realized he loves.

He was aware that the t-shirt he was wearing had a ketchup stain in the front, his hair was sticking up in all directions, and he had yet to take a shower.

"I see you've finally brought an umbrella." he said dryly.

"Only because you'll make a fuss if I don't."

She was right. He would.

He stepped aside to let her in, catching a whiff of her caramel scent. He coughed lightly. "What can I help you with?"

She rolled her eyes. "No need to be so ridiculously formal, Skan. We're more than that."

And it was like Australia all over again. He wanted to tell her to stop saying things that suggests double meaning because his emotions were tangled enough as it is and he didn't want one more thing to think about at night.

He regained composure. "Fine. _What do you want?_ "

She rolled her eyes again, smiling. "I need to borrow your notes on Hamlet."

"Uh--" he cleared his throat. "It's upstairs."

And then, they were in his bedroom. He found himself wishing he'd bother to dump his laundry in the wash or in his wardrobe, at least, that morning or maybe even make up his bed. But this was _Anna_. She had slept in his trailer once because Will snored loudly in the trailer next to hers. And it's not like she hadn't stepped foot in his bedroom yet, either.

Then again, they hadn't been hanging out for a while now. And he could slightly feel like something had shifted between them.

Or maybe he was just assuming again.

He rummaged under his bed while she threw herself atop it, nuzzling her face into his pillows. He bit his lip.

When he found the notes, he waited a few more minutes before giving it to her.

"You do know, don't you, that Mum is going to murder me if she finds out her rum is gone?" He crossed his arms as he watched her busying herself in his kitchen, his notebook tucked in the back pocket of her trousers.

"She won't if she knew it was me," she replied casually and confidently, grinning at him.

Oh, right. He forgot how Please-Dear-Call-Me-Zelfa loves her.

"And besides," she took two plastic cups from the cupboard, half-filled them with rum, and offered one to him. "Shouldn't we be celebrating? You got into Cambridge."

"I'm not even going to bother to ask how you knew."

Skandar wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours later that they left the kitchen. He couldn't recall the various things they talked about. Except that they both only had a single shot of rum and he now couldn't blame the alcohol for what he did next.

Not that it was a spur of the moment thing. The fact that this was the first time they had hung out properly for months, nevermind that she initially got there for revision notes, and that she looked so naturally beautiful while leaning towards him against his kitchen table despite the dark shadows under her eyes, had _nothing_ to do with it.

But it had been almost a year since Australia.

He just _had_ to do something about it.

He asked her to be his date for the premiere.

And she said yes.

***

He kissed her under the mistletoe.

Not that he kissed her _because_ they were under the mistletoe.

But _he kissed her_ nonetheless.

The thing is - he had always thought it'd happen a long _long_ time in the future, despite his tangled feelings for her now. It would probably because they were very drunk in his sofa (or hers) while eating leftover pizza or fish-and-chips with the sound of the telly in the background. And it would probably because they were celebrating a milestone, maybe his degree or her first book.

But _no_.

And it was _amazing_.

It started like this:

Skandar was having a great night.

No, that was a lie.

He was actually all shivers and nerves and it wasn't because the Queen attended the premiere or because it was late November and it was cold.

She was wearing a black cardigan over a black low-cut sleeveless dress when he picked her up at her house but she discarded the garment inside the limo, showcasing the smooth porcelain-like skin of her shoulders.

A lump formed in his throat.

Later, during the screening, she whispered to him, breath hot against his ear, to ask if she could borrow his blazer because her cardigan was next to useless against the cold.

Biting his lip _hard_ , he took off his blazer and gave it to her. He might have mumbled something clever in response but he couldn't remember; his senses were in shambles.

Then, they were in the after-party at Andrew's house and everyone else was there.

Their former director's house was now adorned for Christmas, though not fully (Andrew's ten foot tall Christmas was still noticeably absent.) A few tinsels were woven against balustrades and some stockings were hanging from the fireplace.

"Everyone watch out for the mistletoes," Andrew had warned jokingly the second they all entered his home. "My daughters had finished putting them up and they're everywhere."

It was comfortably warm so Anna took off his blazer and her cardigan.

Heart thudding, he shoved his hands into his pockets and desperately went looking for a drink.

"You and Anna came together." Georgie sidled up next to him in the kitchen, iced tea in hand. It was a statement, simple, and monotonous in delivery, yet Skandar felt like it was an interrogation.

_"Well, we live right next to each other. So we thought it'd save time to just ride the same limo."_

He would've sound so confident and so _Skandar_ if that was what he said. In reality, he couldn't think and he was scrunching his face up, trying to look casual but failing, and running his free hand on his already tousled hair. "Yeah. We sort of -- we thought --"

Anna was now talking to Will, who had a stupid, moony-eyed look on his face.

Head buzzing, he took a drink from his glass. Georgie raised her eyebrows, an unreadable look on her face. Then she shrugged nonchalantly, saying, "Well, you live next to each other, I suppose. It's convenient for you to go together." She flashed him another look.

He wanted to nod but before she could, the girl made his way over to Will P. and Ben, leaving him hanging and wondering whether Georgie knew.

And then... then it was nearing midnight and everybody was heading home.

He almost collided with her in the passageway.

Later, when he'd get to the point where he needs flashback of even the tiniest details that led to the all important first kiss, he'd probably remember how or why he got into that passageway.

Right now, though, her hazel blue eyes were shining up at him in the dim light and her hair was loose from its elegant bun. She was so very close, smelled _so_ good, that he had trouble breathing.

"Skandar," she smiled. "I never thought I'd see you here."

He was lying again, that was not what she said. In actuality, she was sort of stammering and fidgety, so unlike the Anna he knew. "Skan, what are you -- I mean --"

And he didn't know what to say either so he just kissed her.

And the tangled, twisted nerves that were present and hated all night were still there but now... now they were buzzing and firing up more than they ever did before and they felt _great._

She didn't react at first, but then she was kissing him back, slowly and sweetly, her hands going up to his neck, fingers tangling through his slightly long and messy hair. He could taste the rum in her lips.

She pulled back after what felt like forever, gasping slightly. She looked up at him, slightly baffled.

"I know," he said, smiling crookedly. "You didn't know."

"No, I didn't."

He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him once again.

His kisses were less careful now and more urgent because it had been a year and two months since Australia and God knows how long he had been waiting for this. She didn't mind one bit, he thought. She returned his hungry kisses as if she had been longing for them, too.

Everything was amazingly and extraordinarily _perfect_. And then --

She was laughing against his lips.

He opened one eye to look at her. "What?"

She motioned upwards to the ceiling. "Mistletoe."

And true enough, when he looked up, the little plant with yellow flowers and white berries was hanging innocently above their heads.

And everything got much, _much_ better after that.

***

He kissed her again under the rain, two weeks after the one under the mistletoe.

He was literally drowning with stuff at uni plus premieres and press tours for _Dawn Treader_ that he didn't realize he was finally going home for the holidays until he was hailing a cab home. He barely ditched his bags in the foyer before he was flying out of his front door to her house. It was late in the evening, it was pouring rain, and his parents were probably waiting for him in the kitchen, but he didn't care.

"Really," she eyed him from head to toe, taking in his soaked features. "You couldn't bother grabbing an umbrella?"

Instead of answering, he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the deluge outside.

"Have you left your head in Cambridge, you prat?" she shouted at him. She was grinning though, so he had trouble taking her tone seriously. Her maroon sweatshirt was already soaked and clinging to her chest and her hair were sticking around her neck and face.

"How could I when you have it all this time?" he shouted back.

He spun her around and danced with her under the rain. There was no music but he didn't care. And neither did she.

They piroutted around in the middle of the street and laughed until their sides ached. And when he was finally able to breathe, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

And, _oh_. That kiss was hard for him to describe. Passionate and desperate yet scorchingly and heartachingly _perfect_.

If someone turns the story of them into a cheesy rom-com, he'd definitely protest to incorporate this vital moment in the movie. No background music or other nonsense; the sound of the rain and their mingling breaths would be enough.

She was cold and dripping against him and he liked it. Her arms were squeezing his sides, pulling him close. Water swirled around them, winding its way through his blue shirt to her wide legged trousers. They'd no doubt catch their death out there, with the rain and a possible double-decker bus, but he didn't care. And she looked like she didn't care, too.

Their foreheads rested together when it was over. He was panting but she was smiling and she was so close and he couldn't focus.

"You do know, don't you, that everyone is probably watching us right now?" she said.

"I don't care."

"And your parents? Soumaya?"

"Eh, they have it coming. I bet they've already figured it out before I did."

"When did you figure it out?"

He paused. "Australia."

She laughed out loud, tilting her head back to sky. Rainwater trailed from her nose to her neck then down inside the front of her sweatshirt. "So _that_ 's why you were acting weird."

"Shut up." Then he kissed her again.

Then her parents knew, then his parents, then Soumaya, until all that was left were the others.

And by others, he meant Will, Ben, and Georgie. Oh, and Will P., too. He had been there in Australia when Skandar was slowly losing it.

It had been a year and four months since Australia, by the way.

"Do we really have to tell them?" he asked her one night when she was up in his room after a very awkward dinner with his parents. It was almost like those every single afternoon tea and occasional dinner she had with them when she wasn't yet his girlfriend (he may have to replay that word over and over in his again to make it less surreal.) Almost. His parents were more talkative around her now and liked to embarrass him more that sometimes he'd find himself wanting to dunk his head into the Sunday roast and wishing it'd swallow him.

But it was okay. Although, if someone would be really interested to turn this story of them into a movie, he'd cut this part out because he wasn't sure he'd like to flashback to the hellish awkward moments of that dinner.

Or not. Because it was actually a bit hilarious, come to think of it, and the audience could use a slice of comedy.

"Of course, we have to." she said, nudging him so she could sit beside him on the bed. "They're also family, Skan."

He wanted to tell her that there was a huge possibility they won't see them again, with all of them now pursuing individual interests, especially the two of them. But he didn't get the chance to because she was pressing him down to the mattress, her fingers working their way through his shirt buttons, and then -- then --

If this was the groundwork for a rom-com, there was _no way_ he was leaving _this_ part to the cutting room floor.

It would be incredibly hard and _awkward_ to film, true, but the end would be so fucking _worth_ it.

***

This time, Skandar wasn't going to lie: they took it quite weirdly.

Anna broke it casually to them, as if it wasn't that much big of a deal. It was a Saturday night, one year and seven months after Australia, and they were all in Georgie's house. Will P., who was shocked to be invited at first despite the fact that he and Georgie were now very close, was there. Takeout boxes and plastic cups were littered atop the low table in front of them as they lounged in the couch, a rerun of _Friends_ playing in the telly.

It was when she got back from the bathroom and she nudged Ben out of the way so she could snuggle next to Skandar in the couch that she said, nonchalantly, “Skandar and I are dating, by the way.”

Four pairs of eyes turned their way.

Ben chuckled at first, probably thinking she was joking. But then he saw the way how she was tucked under Skandar's arms, and his jaw dropped. Will looked kind of confused. Or maybe he was freaked out, Skandar wasn't sure. Will P. simply gaped at them and Georgie...

Georgie was _smiling_.

He let Anna answer all the interrogations, pretending to be immersed at Chandler and Janice in the telly. She was always better than him at talking, anyway, so he was more than okay to let her take the reins on this one. He just sat there, feet up against the low table (Georgie no longer seemed to mind) and cheek pressed against the top of her head.

(He knew she wasn't into public displays of affection so this level of intimacy with an audience was quite new to him. But he liked it, and she felt so warm and comfortable, so he wasn't going to complain.)

“Of course, they'd find it weird.” she said to him when they were finally alone in his car a few hours later, heading home. “They knew how you hated it when I so much as _touch_ you when you were fourteen.”

“Okay, first of all, you know why I didn't want you to touch me when I was fourteen.”

“I know, but _they_ don't.”

“And second of all, don't you ever bring it up again.”

She rolled her eyes. “My point is, they've known us for a long time. We're their surrogate brother and sister. Everything is going to be strange for them, for a while. Especially, Will and Georgie.”

She was right. Of course, she was. Will was so like Georgie in so many places, as he was to her. (Which was probably why he became attracted to her in the first place; she was the blind spots to his reflection.) And together, the four of them were a perfect balance. A family, in every sense of the word.

And then she was grabbing his free hand, lacing her fingers through his. And when he peeled his eyes away momentarily from the road over to her, she was turned to her side, facing him.

“It'll be alright,” she said.

Skandar knew it would. And just like most of these things, he knew it'd get better.

***

Skandar had stopped counting the days since Australia because, in all honesty, he wasn't keeping track of anything anymore.

Was it May when he and some school friends had gone into a pub and Anna had to bring him home because he was too intoxicated? She was furious at him when he woke up the next morning. But it was okay, though, because she had a coffee in hand for him and when he had gulped it down she snuggled next to him in his bed, ignoring the smell of scotch clinging on his shirt.

Or was it August when she and Soumaya had a girls' night out and when they got home and the minute Soumaya disappeared to the kitchen to wash her face, she pushed him against the wall and then he couldn't form any words at all because her lips were suddenly slip-sliding against his in a pace that took his breath away. (No, it was July.)

Though there was that time in June when he came by for dinner with her parents and he knew it'd be etched into his memory forever because he couldn't remember the last time he blushed _that_ hard. And she was just smiling against her wine glass beside him, clearly amused.

He made her pay for that later during the pillow fight.

Maybe, in the future, when he and Anna would morph into one of those couples who could keep their hands off each other, he'd probably have the amount of concentration required to work out the right order for these events. But not now.

And it's not as if their story could ever become a romantic comedy, so it would be fine to leave this part in a slight disarray.

*

Almost two years after Australia, and Skandar was returning to uni. And it was strange because it felt like only last night that he arrived home and woke up freezing and naked the next morning because she had gotten up and dragged the covers with her to close the blinds. (She was with him a half second later, though, then gave him what was probably the _hottest_ morning of his existence, so all was forgiven.)

He was in her bedroom, cross-legged atop her bed, and watching her hunch over his guitar. Her fingers awkwardly glided across the fretboard while her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A lock of her hair fell over her face.

Out of all the things to do on their last night together for probably a long time, he was teaching her how to play the fucking _guitar_.

Of course, she had had a lot of time over the past few months to learn it, but they'd always end up making out in the couch (or in the floor or in the bed...) that she had learned nothing, except maybe how to hold the guitar upright. Not that she ever complained about the unproductiveness afterwards and neither did he.

But he was complaining _now_.

"I know it's going to be hard," he said, trying to catch her attention. "To sleep alone in your bed again."

She snorted.

"And not to be able to see me for a few months."

She snorted again. "I'm sure I'll manage, Skan."

He threw his hands up in the air then flung himself back to her bed. "You could at least pretend to be _sad_!"

"You know there's a thing called _visitation_ , right?"

"And on my birthday?"

"Of course, I'll be there on your birthday!" Her voice was incredulous but she was still so bloody focused on the guitar that Skandar finally lost it. "Even if I have to barge into one of your classes and make a scene. What a ridiculous --"

"Good." He grabbed his guitar away from her arms and tossed it over his shoulder. "Blood-dy--" she started to say but he was pushing her down to the mattress and was suddenly hovering over her. And now that he finally got her attention...

She always smelled a little bit like caramel, which reminded him of his childhood. Of days when caramel candies and chocolate gold coins dominated his life. The smell was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.

"I can't wait to show you my room."

She glared up at him, unamused. "You better hope I don't find pictures of other girls there, Skandar Amin Casper Keynes, or I'll kill you."

"Okay, first of all," Her gray shirt (which was his, by the way) rode up to her waist and he ran his palm against the pale skin there. "The only picture you'll ever see there is of you."

She rolled her eyes but her cheeks reddened, so he knew it was fine.

"And, secondly, if you ever call me by my complete name again, _I_ 'll kill you."

She smiled deviously, her hazel blue eyes glinting under her lamp light. "Oh, really? Skandar Ami --"

She still made a lot of noise after that but none of them were coherent ones anymore.

Thank God, her parents were out that night.

And she tasted like caramel, too.

It started in Australia but he had no idea how it was going to end.

And it was alright, he thought. Because he found that not knowing what's gonna come next always made him want to relish and to _be_ in the moment. And that always turned out great in the end for him, one way or another.

And what could be any more perfect moment to relish than _this_?

But there was one thing he knew as Anna's lips burned liquid fire against his skin while the rain pounded hard outside: he had a new found appreciation for Australia.

**Author's Note:**

> Skandar and Anna aren't really next door neighbours but for the sake of this story, I made them so.


End file.
